


Linger

by UnknownPaws



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ghost!Anakin, M/M, More Tags to Come as Chapters Increase, Other, Rumours, Suffering Everyone, Welcome to my Hellshow I hope you enjoy, suffering obi-wan, themes of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws
Summary: In the wake of his premature death, Anakin is left trapped in the physical realm as a Ghost. All the while watching helpless as Obi-Wan begins to succumb to the fate that should have been his.





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

> This will have multiple chapters, the first one here being a two part piece. If you do not like heavy angst or tragedy, probably a good idea to turn back. This fic will be written from the perspective of many different characters, and as such each segment will dictate to that particular character's mindset. Hereby, how events transpire in the story are based on how each character perceives them based on their own perceptions of Anakin and Obi-Wan. So take what you read with a grain of salt; how one character views an event may no be what really happened. 
> 
> How do you find the true answer then? That's for you to figure out lol.
> 
> This chapter was based off the song "Hymn for the Missing" by Red. Though the entire fic is literally based on "Dear Agony" by Breaking Benjamin. 
> 
> (If any of this is confusing its because I am stressed and dead tired and my ADD is being a real thorn in my side at the moment).

Floating.

 

He was drifting amiss a sea of empty thoughts, aimless waves tossing him about like a child's toy. A deafening calm of eerie blackness suffocating him. No shattering sound to awaken him. No offensive touch to disturb him. Just his naked soul and the lonely listlessness of isolation stripping away the cloth of mortality. And yet he felt no fear; only calmness as the rude hands of unconsciousness dragged him away from the world awake and removed his sculpted human flesh .

 

Gentle, tender care taken to his fragile state, his ruined spirit.

 

A soft feeling of warmth and love pulses in his hollow shell, sweet affection he'd long yearned from his dearest mother returning to comfort, soothe and protect. The bittersweet regret of angered moments and memories washed away in her whisper, the pain he'd suffered with dislodging from his heart to leave nothing but an open, bleeding wound.  He stifled a cry - or would have, if voice he had still - and felt her fingers delicately touch his soul and hush him to sleep, rock-a-bye hums lulling the pain away as his infant heart clung to Mother's comfort bosom and nestled deep into her love, away from the world.

 

And then… nothing.

 

Anakin Skywalker frowns (a feat, he decided within some other consciousness, was admirable without a physical face).

 

Something is wrong.

 

No, wait-

 

He fumbles, shifting in darkness's abject womb, wary fetus struggling for escape. No, no, no! This was wrong, so wrong! He shouldn't be here, he should-

 

Why. The question arose in his mind, as memories flowed. Too fast for him to understand, let alone properly recall, but still there nonetheless. His entire life playing out in a film reel of black and white, no grey or colour to enhance it. A boring, dull, listless life. No, this was wrong - something is very, very wrong with you, My Boy.

 

What? He calls out in confusion, searching for the voice. No answer shall be granted you yet, Child. You did something wrong. Something isn't clear here. There is something amiss inside you - pieces! A puzzle broken into shards with its jigsaw bits gone astray!

 

You don't make any sense, tell me what you mean! Anakin cries out.

 

Nevermore, none shall be said to you. This is your doing, you must fix what you've wrought. What someone has wrought. What they have wrought - to you.

 

Mother screams. Anakin is torn from her.

 

By the Stars of Nyx, why?! He demands.

 

Too late, it's time for you to go.

 

Thought was broken as time started to move. Temperatures rose, and Anakin gasped as a sudden fire was lit inside him. Burning his soul to cinders, a flame so hot and bright and fierce that he hadn't even the inkling to scream, too mesmerized by the crimson flames eating away at his entire being.   


Hot, hot, hot!

 

Then it was over. The last ember licking his cheek, an affectionate kiss he did not ask for, Mother long torn away from her precious Son screaming and struggling. Smoke billowed from his mouth, ashes of sin tumbling out in a steady pour, the tainted waters of evil - his Evils - flooding the abyss and drowning him. A sea crafted of guilt, loss and confusion. He sank beneath the unfiltered waters and drowned in his own tears.

 

Anakin Skywalker woke up.

 

\---

 

The fires crackled loudly, drowning out all parts of Master Yoda's typical speech, unmoved by the Grandmaster's words. They jumped for joy and glee, feeding greedily upon the body of the dead Jedi lying upon the slab, a body once young and unmarred now burned and broken and half ash beneath a concealing blanket of cheap cotton and faux wool. From where he stands, at the foot of the stone slab, Obi-Wan Kenobi feels the embers nip playfully at his raw skin, the bacta-patched flesh marred and healing.

 

He hears the fire puppies yipping, yapping and cracking their own limbs off to reach him but ignores all attempts at his attention to remain focused on the poor, disaster Death before him. A Death unkind and untimely; a loss he has only himself to blame for.

 

It was his fault to begin with. A mission so simple yet so screwed up. It was supposed to be a relief delivery of supplies to the people a Republic-controlled planet set out in the Mid-core. No where significant that the CIS would take interest, and nothing of value to trigger the threat of greed-sickened pirates coming cascading down onto the poor primitive planet. A simple, quiet mission. It should have gone unbothered. But fate, and the Force, laughed in glee as the tiny, weaponless supply ship was assaulted up and down by cloaked warships. In a sick turn of events, everything the planet should have been was misfortune's mistake. A recent conversion to the CIS, paid rewards for Jedi baiting and exposure, and the new appearance of a blockage swiftly turned the mission to a disaster.

 

There had been no guns - Obi-Wan didn't think to need them.  
No fighters - the space and hyperlanes were clear that day.   


And so soon came the cost of Kenobi's error.

 

Not his pride. Not his battalion of a hundred Clones, Pavlov soldiers conditioned to only fight and die. Not even his beloved lightsaber his life in the form of metal, crystal and plasma, lost to the impact of the crash and following firefight.

 

The cost was none but that of his best friend.

 

His former Padawan. His brother.

 

His-

 

Yoda's voice breaks him away from his thoughts. He shakes himself awake, body on the mend and tender still, and forces his face up  to meet the many eyes of the Order upon him. Eyes of judgement. Eyes of grief. Eyes of disapproval (blast you, damn tyrants, he screams inwardly). And then eyes of sympathy from the small few, the hearts that cared and that he held closest to his own. To those eyes he matched his gaze, grey-blue stormy as the clouds gathering outside the Temple.

 

They understood; they knew the pain, and shared it with him.

 

Gratefulness was never sweeter on his tongue as he mouthed words of thanks in secret to the soft presences of Luminara Unduli, Quinlan Vos, Bant Eerin, and Garen Muln. Their comfort, minuscule as it may be in the traditional (infuriating) Jedi fashion, was more than enough to sate him for the moment. It was all he needed to remain standing, to resist jumping into the fire and joining his unfortunate friend in death.

 

(Oh, how much I yearn to lie beside you in the flames, he mourned softly).

 

Yoda's speech continued, long and dull. It grates upon his ears in mingle with the cackle of the irksome flames. He grit his teeth, thankful his wounds and gauze patches covering his face replaced the thought of anger with ideas of suffrage from physical agony for many onlookers. Only, again, the closest to him could sense the true meaning behind the grimaces and flinched in reflex. He ignored them now, eyes set glaring at the accursed fire chewing messily away at his beloved brother's body.

 

Selfish fire! he spat venomously, snarling at the way they bite, nibbled, pulled and digested the soft flesh, the dark clothes, the beautiful locks of golden brown.

 

How dare these flames take joy! How dare they mock my misery, mock _his_ finality, his loss! Damn you, fire! Back to Hell with you, and away from his sleeping self!

 

His head jerked up, those eyes surrounding him narrowed with harsh verdicts to his plight. Oh, how he wished to spit at them all.

 

Damn you! he hissed. Damn you all to Chaos! To the Sith! To-

 

"Obi-Wan?"

 

Her sweet voice awoke him, Luminara's delicate face peering down in worry.

 

Obi-Wan blinked, slumped heavily against the stone slab. His eyes were sore, the gauze and batca upon his cheeks wet.  His head felt heavy, laden with fuzziness. Had he fallen asleep against the stone? The funeral was over, it seemed, Jedi filtered out of the room. It was only him, abandoned with but Luminara - and Quinlan, yes he saw the man now, waiting by the door with abnormal impatience - to keep him company.

 

Luminara knelt down beside him. Sorrow wet her royal blue eyes when she saw the red rimming his, her hands touching his bruised head tenderly in comfort. Obi-Wan sank into her presence, a beaming light in the Force, his most trusted friend to count upon during the worst moments of his life. She'd been there for Satine, for Qui-Gon, and Satine again. Now, she was here for him, when he'd lost all he loved in his life. His last promise to Qui-Gon, his reason for never running away back to Satine after Naboo; his little brother, his best friend, his _more_.  Gone.

 

(Gone!)

 

He scrambled to his feet amidst Unduli's squawk of alarm.

 

The fire was out, the body nothing but ash and smoke now to soon be swept away and used in the gardens.

 

Ash - there was nothing but ashes and memories. It was over. It was true. It wasn't a nightmare.

 

A whimper bubbled in Obi-Wan's throat, and with trembling hands, he drew his fingers into the ash. He imagine, for a moment, the touch of soft silken hair. The rough callous of worked skin, leathery but smooth with unbridled youth. Wet kisses from gentle lips upon his fingertips. The blazing gleam of untamed wildness in sky-blue eyes. The indent of a scar upon a chiseled face. The cold brush of metal from the famed prosthetic arm. Abs slick with sweat, from hours spent sparring together in the gardens where only Padawans and Younglings should linger. Legs twining around his own in a koala hug to keep him from walking away when attention was sought. Arms strong enough to hold him and a speeder up in the air. The soft tender beat of two hearts in unison, as one. The calm caress of love against his brain.

 

And then it was over, hands wrist deep in soot, all that was left of his Half.

 

Obi-Wan choked. His arms trembled, soaked in the soot. The yearning wish to have joined in the burning, destroying their bones until the ashes blended together, returned. Strange regret filled his empty heart, a cup of unsanitary water for him to sip. He wanted - he needed - he longed-

 

This was out of hand. He awoke again, sweat rolling off his face into the soot. Odd; he'd fallen asleep again from a mere daydream. Luminara was over his shoulder, whispering reassurances, but also reminders, that there was nothing left for him here now. She was right; it was time to let go.

 

(It's time to let go.)

 

With a final stroke to the ashes, Obi-Wan knelt down and pressed his lips to the stone, and bid farewell to Anakin Skywalker for the last time.

 

(The bond has severed.)

 

\---

 

(Grievous was cruel; in two hits they went down.   
Obi-Wan's heart bumped when his body broke against the rocks and rubble of the collapsing ship.   
But Anakin 's flat lined the moment he hit the planet's hard, red earth.)

\---

 

Ahsoka Tano sat beside the remains of her former Master. Tears lingered at the edges of her eyes, but she dare not weep them.

 

The news of Anakin's death had reached her late, and she'd missed the funeral. She'd been off-planet at the time, executing undercover detective work regarding the rather irate Zabrak Sith Lord, Darth Maul (a loose title, she decided dryly, for a lose-ended loser).

 

It had been a mission to an off-scope planet somewhere in the Mid-Rim. A distress call came for supplies, the Chancellor receiving the message personally from the government. The Jedi Council had tasked her former master and Obi-Wan Kenobi (the trial, still bitter a taste upon her feline tongue, prevented her from acknowledging the man as anything but someone she once knew) with the task of delivering a set of food, clothing and medical supplies to the needy planet. A relaxing break from the frontlines for the Jedi, propaganda to boost Jedi image for the Senate. But the entire damned thing had been a ploy - the CIS had taken over the system by force in weeks prior, from what she heard out of local mouths, and forced the planet to lure the two famed Jedi in. Only when they were close enough did Grievous launch an attack, one the Jedi had not been prepared for. Anakin Skywalker, ever the Hero, had gone out of his way to protect the Clones and crew on board the tiny shuttle, paying for it with his life through a shot to the heart. Kenobi, on the other hand, did the Jedi thing and fought. No care for the Clones, or the Hero with No Fear. Just another Battle, another frontline crusade for the almighty Jedi Order. As it would be, Kenobi survived after protecting himself during the crash - Anakin, wounded in his heroics, did not.

 

But if she were honest with herself, Ahsoka had heard serpents speak more honest words than the Jedi and local community combined.  (Truth be told, she didn't know what the true story was, and part of her didn't ever want to find out).

 

Regardless, in the wake of the celebrated Jedi's death a funeral was held.

 

From what she'd heard from Padmé - the woman a mess of tears and a broken heart - the turnout had been huge (even those not close to the Jedi Knight had bothered to turn up, Padmé snipped coldly, and Ahsoka took that as her hint to leave the mourning woman (widow) for the last time). Master Yoda gave a speech, tears were shed over the loss of the Chosen One (Anakin! Ahsoka thought in exasperation, wishing the title could be tossed away from his person, like he wasn't an object of interest) and the body burned to ash in a final act of release and relief to the lost soul.

 

She'd gotten the news the minute the last ember was burned away, and her bond - a sacred connection to the only person she could truly call her Big Brother - severed completely.  By the time she was back in orbit around Coruscant, the funeral had dispatched and the Masters had closed the room for the night. By sheer luck - and possibly sympathy - Master Yoda caught her sneaking through the halls and admitted her entrance to the pyre chamber. He left her alone the moment she stepped inside, door closed behind him. She paid no notice, eyes drawn up to the stone slab sitting dead centre in the middle of the room.  Part of her expected to see a body, even a still one. Not a pile of grey, limp ash in a pile.

 

(She realized too late that the old Master - be it a senile moment or his own reasons - had locked her inside the chamber, and no amount of her shouts or screams to be free from this moment would grant her leave.)

 

So, left with no other option but a pile of ash, she took her night to sit  by the slab, staring down at the pile as if expecting words to magically arise and greet her with the familiar "Hey Snips, took you long enough! I've been waiting her FOREVER for you - get it?"

 

She refused to cry. She was older now - no, not older. Changed now. She was no longer the Ahsoka of the Jedi Order. Just Ahsoka Tano, the little Sister to Anakin Skywalker, the only family she had left in this galaxy.

 

She wanted answers. She wanted reasons. She wanted _him_.

 

In all her life, she'd never cared so much more for another being as much as she did him. He was as flesh to her as could be, biology and species difference be damned. His voice - her voice - were unified in the forefront of arguments, laughter, tears and lectures alike. She was his rock - he took from her as much as she took from him. He was her tree, her strong oak with limber branches that could hold her up no matter how much older, bigger or heavier she got with age and time. There was nothing that could stop him, nothing…

 

But nothing is nothing, and there is always something. A lesson she had learned back in her early days as a Padawan, fresh blood on the frontlines. And when it came to her trial, the betrayal of something (a name she refused to recall). And so, as the lesson dictated, no one was truly free from the cold hands of Death. Not even Anakin Skywalker.

 

She would not cry.

 

Her fingers traced patterns in the ashes caught along the slab's edge. The only thing left of Anakin. An idea came to Ahsoka, a terribly selfish urge. She pushed it down, scolding herself. But it resurfaced, a bobbing apple upon a lake of grief, and she hesitated. There were no windows in the chamber; she had no idea if it were morning, still night, or if a whole day had passed without her knowledge. Ahsoka considered the state of her affairs and wondered if she were to die in the chamber here, beside her master.

  
Part of her wished it, but she was no longer a foolish naïve child.

 

She would no cry. Her tears lingered on her lashes, sorrow clinging hard to the ends of her heart strings. She would not dare cry.

 

But she could crawl upon the table, curl up beside the ash pile, and sleep until the doors opened. Her future, without him, lay behind them, and she may only leave when she was ready to let go.

 

\---

 

(The next morning, a true full night in the chamber, saw a disheveled Ahsoka Tano stumble exhausted out of the Temple. Her clothes were dusty with ash, face shadowed and eyes haunted. She was ready to leave, to face her uncertain future. Anakin's remains were left unbothered on the slab.

But in her hands, Ahsoka snuck away a tiny, ash-filled bottle.)

 

\---

 

Luminara Unduli was no fool of a woman or Jedi. She was 39 years old, pushing 40 come a month or so, had seen more death than necessary and was completely devoted to the Jedi Code. She was a teacher and student, a constant learner improving her knowledge with every step she took down her chosen path. She was a friend and sometimes-lover to those who needed her. She came second and others first - so be it the Jedi way. But she held herself in high regard, respected her person and wore confidence like a well fitted glove - so be it the mark of a woman.

 

Luminara Unduli was many things, but stupid was not one of those. Or so she liked to think.

 

Mistakes had been made in the due course of the war. The deaths of millions, loss of Jedi and innocents alike. The corruption of politics and constant see-saw effect of star systems falling in and out of the Republic's favour.  The Falling of Order's own Temple-raised, Peace-minded Jedi, who grew disillusioned with War and either flounced or feared it.

 

 

She experienced the last; Barriss Offee was her pride and joy. A bright student - prodigy even. Polite, gentle and kind to her core. Everything Luminara had dreamed of in a Padawan - perhaps too much so. Never once had she imagined the infant girl she'd taken into the Temple would become something so monstrous.

 

(The child dumped unceremoniously into her arms by her own sour lemon of a Master, the old woman muttering of an abandoned baby and a desperate grandmother under her breath even as Luminara shouted out questions and adjusted her hold on the newborn.)

 

In all honesty, Luminara thought for the longest time she was doing right. Everything she'd ever known had come from the teachings of her lecturers, her Master, and knowledge of the Force. She learned the dangers of attachments. She knew what threat they possessed to the heart, a fickle organ literally and figurative. All the more reason to stay away, close off and avoid any risks that may turn her world inside out.

 

Irony is a cold, cruel bitch.

 

Everything she'd ever known had come from dubious sources. Of her lecturers who knew only what they'd been conditioned to say, happy dogs vying to obey the Order that commands them. Of her Master, a hag of a woman with a carved stone heart, so detached Luminara could not even remember her real name. Of her own heart that she'd long since buried beneath a mountain of ice-cold resolve and dedication to a barren Order. The Code was her guide, and she its loyal servant.

 

So when it came to her student, she held nothing but a long rope with which to tether Barriss to. No affection, needless of her heart. No connection, despite her bonding to the girl in a way that could only mirror that of a mother and her dearest daughter. No love, regardless of the pain such denial struck her heart. Barriss was a Padawan and nothing more. She'd proven that - as she had to Skywalker, rest his soul - many times before. It was not out of cruel neglect, but in best interest to the girl. Luminara was a servant of the Code; she would heed its words and obey. Even if it meant hurting her own soul, she would obey the only way of life she knew.

 

But misplaced faith was all she'd been bestowed, and in the wake of her misguidance, she'd lost Barriss. When her Padawan fell, her  world went with her. Gone was the sweet baby girl Luminara had held in her arms, nestled against her bosom with the promise of security, warmth and comfort. In her place now stood a monstrous she-demon Luminara did not recognize. A terrible creature bent by the clouded Darkness that surrounded them all; a shadow she'd become, Barriss's fate sealed the moment she _let go_ of her teaching, her heart, and pressed the button to apocalypse. Leaving blood, bodies and a shell of Luminara Unduli in her wake.

 

_"Do not give in to attachments, for they will destroy you" her Master, during one of the woman's more sober moments, advised her._

 

Where had she gone wrong? She'd listened to the Force, its quiet whispers. She'd studied the Code, as told to. She'd been faithful, loyal and devoted completely to the Order, to the Greater Good. So why had everything gone so wrong? Why, she asked the Force, one solitary night in a moment of haziness crafted from Florrum Rum. Why have you taken her from me; my only Barriss.

 

(Daughter or Student, Luminara did not know anymore).

 

Answers were never given. Despite her pleas, the Force ad gone silent. In the end, it did not matter; Barriss was gone, slipped away from her, and Luminara could only mourn. Help her, you cannot, Yoda's advice was. And so temple life moved on as if the dent Barriss had left in the Order was nothing more than a pinprick. But Luminara, caught in the rising tide of sorrow, was trapped. Lost and troubled, she soon found herself uneasy.

 

Everything she'd known come from dubious sources.  

 

The words of elder Jedi felt stale upon her ears. The soft reassurances of the Code laced with a subtle poison seeping into her mind, making her feel sick and barren. She had no children, no mate, no other life to speak of - the Order ensured she'd be trapped. As a Jedi, she adhered to the rules and let go of her Padawan, so be it the will of Force, and thanked its guidance graciously.

 

As a woman, and ultimately a mother, she wept heavily over the loss and cursed the Force in contempt.

 

Perhaps that is why, as she watched Obi-Wan wither away in misery's embrace down by the burning pyre, should could not fault anyone for feeling pain in loss. She was not a cruel woman by nature, despite whisperings at the temple and her own obvious failures with Barriss, but Jedi conduct frowned upon such emotional conflict and normally so would she. But Obi-Wan was a friend, and Anakin's loss was far too tragic, and if Barriss had given her master one gift in life, it was insight. One such insight being the newfound recognition of devotion some Jedi had to others, to support them where they needed it most, and not leave them in the dust to flounder lonely and devoid of stability.  

 

(Geonosis nightmares of red sands and Barriss's dead blue eyes haunted her to this very day).

 

Even so, sympathy and sorrow was not an excuse to lose herself. No matter her internal feelings, she scolded herself, they meant nothing in the face of Conflict, the Force and Order. What she'd been taught was Right; she had to remember that. (It was all she could remember).

 

In such, despite her sadness, she shared the Order's cold look to Anakin Skywalker's demise.  

 

She did not know the exact cause of death but from she'd been told, Anakin had died protecting Obi-Wan while the Jedi Master had tried to get the rest of the ship's crew to safety, away from General Grievous's wrath. The blade that had pierced him was not of bleeding red crystal plasma, but one of green - not unlike her own - stolen from a fellow Jedi. The General, a heavy metal machine, knew nothing of honour or respect, robbing Knights of their lives and using them as tools to tear the rest of them down piece by piece. And Skywalker, ever the brave and reckless with the most simplistic logic, was nothing more than another body on the pile. Luminara could respect that; Anakin was not known, in all her experience of working beside the young man, to have tact or sense. He ran in without thinking, often dragging those with him. (She winced at the burns covering Obi-Wan's face, the man deformed by flame and wreckage).

 

And now, such recklessness had finally gotten him killed. It was a lesson to the younger Jedi, the adoring crowd who'd looked to Skywalker with hope and inspiration, that such deviations from the Code would only led to ruin. Sinning would ensure the sinner burned by fire. A typical response to anarchy, Luminara mused inwardly; half agreement, half accusation. That was the truth though;  she could not deny the Council's disproval, as she watched the last licking flames escape away into the night. No matter how one looked at it, Skywalker died a reckless death. It was tragic, but stupid.

 

Obi-Wan trembled by the stone; she could feel herself twitch, ready to move to his side as the funeral ended and cloaked beings streamed out in fast current rivers from the room. Quinlan, across the room, flashed her a look; she could not return his gaze, cold and unfamiliar. Her eyes, steeled with resolve, focused on Obi-Wan. What mattered most now was not showering Obi-Wan in sympathy, but helping him heal. Reminding him of the Force, of what they'd been taught by their teachers, Masters and Order.

 

So as she knelt by his side, she offered her soul to him, to help him remember, move on, and let go. As she had.

 

As she had.

 

\---

 

(Anakin's death was stupid. A fallacy that should not have happened.

  
But.

 

She was not about to dismiss his actions as foolhardy. It may have been reckless, but inside her - the insight Barriss had gifted her - a voice began reason and she began to listen. She knew Anakin, limited as their contact was, and though he were a young man without discretion, he was ruled by loyalty. Courageous be his heart's fire and devotion of a different kind (the one, Luminara admitted quietly,  many Jedi lacked as the War turned them from diamonds of peace to carnage coal) guided his soul. To his Padawan - former, Luminara remembered not without a sinking guilt -  he was a Hero, coming for her no matter the obstacle. Obi-Wan, she knew, was the same. No matter what lay in front of him, Anakin would put his entire person on the line for his former Master, breaching everything the Code (Code, Code, Code! Damned be it!) dictated against attachments.

 

And it was truly the most remarkable, admirable thing another sentient could do for another. Selfless to the wellbeing of others, even if it meant sacrificing one's own life so that a treasured loved one could live. Ignorant to one's own plight when a friend was in need. Love guiding the soul, influencing actions and ideals, fueling the need to make the Galaxy a better place for family and friends, for all those you held dear. It was the act of heart, the deviation from the Code's cold mantra of separation, that Anakin lived by. And it was this passion, this love for Obi-Wan, that let him selflessly give his life up so his Master could escape. Obi-Wan was a brave, kind soul; Luminara knew this, knew him since they were young. He would have been busy at the time helping others escape. He would have been the Negotiator, convincing the crew to get to the escape pods while he held off Grievous. Anakin, in turn, would have run around fighting off enemies without a single thought towards his own safety. He would have vanquished. He would have protected. He died putting himself between Obi-Wan and Grievous, taking a hit for the Jedi who was too busy helping others to save himself.  Anakin had died a true Hero.

 

Luminara the Woman, the mother, believed this.

 

But Luminara the Jedi, holding Luminara the Woman's head under repressing waters to suffocate her, did not.)

 

\---

 

Voices, down the spacious hall.

 

Anakin stumbled about like a loose-limbed fawn, trying to find footing.

 

Something was wrong; nothing was normal anymore.

 

He couldn't see, couldn't feel.

 

Couldn't sense anything.

 

Cloaked figures stood unfamiliar to him in clusters of ten or two, hunched over in murmured discussion, though Anakin could not hear what. He could not see their faces; to him, every single Jedi looked the same.

 

Voices, by the door, old wood stained with smoke like an unbridled guilt trip, sorrow laced into the polished Alderaan Oak.

 

Voices, in a large room where upon a slab a fire burned.

 

A body lay still in the midst of the flames.

 

Anakin approached and peered curiously at the charred face.

 

And screamed.

 

And fell back into the Force from shock.

 

His own two blue eyes, never have been closed, stared up at nothing now as heat melted them away into liquid blind puddles.

 

\---

 

(Obi-Wan sleeps poorly that night. His mind warped with images of fire, burning hot magma searing pale skin and a stump of a body. Sleep rips its grasp away  from him, scalded, and Obi-Wan is left to lay gasping at the intense heat lingering on his skin. Burning holes into his senses. The blankets fly off; he scrambles from his burning bed, clawing desperately at his red hot skin and gouging deep bloodied groves into his arms and chest.

 

Then the flames flicker away and reality splashed cold water on his face - hands shaking over the sink of his private fresher - leaving him confused and disoriented. He blinks, exhaustion clouding him like the city smog from Coruscant's lowest levels. There is nothing, no fire or lava. No Anakin.

 

Anakin.

 

Obi-Wan whimpers his name, blood soaked hands covering his ruined face, the bandages stale and yellow with infection and neglect.

 

Anakin.

 

Obi-Wan lets the guilt in, harshly beating his soul in punishment. He relishes it, welcomes its cruelty. Euphoria comes to him with the promise of atonement; for his sins, for Anakin, he will suffer. Every beating, bruises to his confidence and sanity, are one step closer to amending for his blunder. For Anakin's death. He'll take; by the Force, he'll take it.

 

He deserves it.

 

They all deserve it.

 

Anger's snake rears its head, forked tongue tasting the new scent of hatred ripping out of Obi-Wan's heart. The ignorance of the Council; the cold dismissal of the Jedi; the mockery of Anakin's name, his heart. It pricked a nerve in Obi-Wan, injecting poison. A virus found its way into his soul, slowly infecting him.

 

It's taking him.

 

It's ruining him.

 

He looks up into the mirror; yellow greets him.

 

And the guilt licks its lips and whispers into his ear, "it has begun". )


End file.
